Strike of the Midnight Sparrow
by Redblossom of RiverClan
Summary: Owlstrike wants to escape his father and his past. Sparrowfrost has blood on her paws that won't come off. In dangerous times, with dangerous enemies, how will the cycle of life, death and revenge affect them? T for death and violence. Please, please, please R&R.
1. Prologue- ShadeClan

**(I own these Clans and characters, but I don't own warriors.)**

**Strike of the Midnight Sparrow**

Prologue

Let's pretend that Night and Day are at war. Day kills Night's best friend, Moon. In that moment, Night hates Day. Night wants Day to feel the same pain that he felt. Night wishes for Day and all those like him to suffer and die. So for revenge, Night kills Day's best friend, Sun. _Now we are equal,_ Night thinks. But Day disagrees. Day is now feeling the exact same pain that Night felt before. But since Night killed Day's best friend, that means that Night is no better that Day, whom he hates and wants to die.

Although Night was not seeking to be any better than Day, he hated Day and all those who were like him, so Night should hate himself. Besides, do you think that Night's best friend would have wanted Night to become a murderer, living on only one thing, hatred, as it ate away his sanity? Do you think that Night's best friend would want Night to become no better than the person who killed him? In the end, you could say that neither Night or Day are evil, it's the hatred and revenge in their hearts that is wrong. Those feelings are human, but Night and Day should not have let them take over their minds and rip away their sanity and common sense. In the end, revenge is the true monster.

If you let those feelings control you, then you will just make the revenge cycle grow stronger, a spiral into darkness. Although it might seem that you are bringing justice and fixing things, you are actually just fanning the flames, just encouraging the cycle of hatred. You will be no more than prey for the revenge, and it will ultimately burn away all of your happiness, maybe even your sanity, and all that you will have left is ashes, ashes of what once was.

…

Firefrost stared pensively into the pit of fire by her paws. She could not feel the blistering heat- though she knew it was there- and nor did she feel the terror she knew she should. This was probably because she was dead. She supposed that once that boundary had been crossed, it wasn't something that scared you anymore.

She looked up as a black tom padded up behind her.

"Blackscar." She said, nodding curtly at him. He blinked in return and sat down next to her.

"Why have you summoned us here, Firefrost? What tedious politics must we discuss tonight?" His voice was low and rough, with a hostile undercurrent. He was an imposing figure, huge and muscular, but the small ginger she-cat showed no fear as she stared up into his eyes.

"Politics must be employed sometimes. Not all problems can be killed, thinking like that got me these." She gestured with her tail to the three jagged scars that distorted her face, starting just above her left eye and stopping at her, slightly shredded, nose.

"It's not like you had much in the way of looks to begin with… I wouldn't worry about it." Blackscar muttered, not meaning her to hear. She hissed quietly, warning him not to offend her.

They were interrupted by more pawsteps behind them. Firefrost stood quickly and greeted the newcomer. He was a white tom, nervous looking and twitchy. He sat beside them, though his eyes continued to dart around the little clearing, never resting on his companions.

"Firefrost, Blackscar," His voice was honeyed and persuasive. The kind of voice that could convince you to do anything. "So wonderful to be here with you. What topics shall we discuss tonight?"

"You shall find out when Stripeshadow arrives, Whitewing." Firefrost sounded bored with his behaviour, and slightly disdainful.

"Of course. Of course." Whitewing replied quickly.

A rustle in the bushes caused them to look around. A handsome golden tabby tom stepped into the firelight. His amber eyes glittered like precious gems and his fur rippled perfectly over his muscles. Stripeshadow knew he was handsome. Knew it, and used it.

"I'm here." He said importantly. Firefrost nodded and waited for him to seat himself before she began to talk.

"I, Firefrost, have summoned you here tonight to discuss the futures of each of our respective Clans. Shall we begin?" The formal words were a deeply ingrained tradition of ShadeClan cats. Firefrost awaited each of their 'aye's before continuing. "Blackscar, formerly of FleshClan. The responsibility of caring for a Clan will be yours to bear for two moons. Do you accept?"

"I do." Blackscar replied. Although the shock on his face said that this was not what he had been expecting. Firefrost repeated these words with Whitewing of BoneClan and Stripeshadow of BloodClan before she said:

"And finally; I, Firefrost of DeathClan, also accept the responsibility of caring for my Clan however I see fit." With the formalities over, she turned to the fire. She pushed something in and suddenly images appeared in the flames. She returned her cool gaze to her consorts.

"My esteemed and intelligent friends, we are gathered here because of a single cat." Firefrost's eyes travelled over her companions.

"Who?" Stripeshadow ventured.

"Owlstrike."

**Authors notes: ShadeClan is the evil equivalent of StarClan. **


	2. Sparrowfrost- The Taste of Blood

**Sparrowfrost- The Taste of Blood**

Sparrowfrost always seemed to get the worst jobs; today it was removing a body from the camp. Although, she kind of _liked _corpses. They couldn't yell at her, or call her names, or scratch her ears. And they listened. She could tell them stuff, and they would never tell another soul. Of course, she knew that they went to ShadeClan afterwards, but hopefully they had better things to do than gossip about low ranking warriors.

Sparrowfrost examined the face of Lightfoot, the unfortunate BoneClan spy, who had been executed at sunhigh that day. She looked nice enough, but you never could tell with BoneClan. Mistdapple- Sparrowfrost's mother- had always called them "cowardly, backstabbing and flighty". But she had also called her only daughter an "un-warriorlike, mouse-brained freak" so Sparrowfrost decided that her opinion didn't matter that much.

"What were you like?" she wondered aloud, "A brave warrior, or a jumpy fox-heart?" A giggle sounded behind her. Sparrowfrost spun around, surprised.

"Look at this, Ashblaze!" a snide voice mewed. "The freak's talking to a dead body." Dewpetal, a pretty grey-blue she-cat, was stood on a rock to Sparrowfrost's left. Ashblaze was clambering up after her. The muscular grey tabby sneered at Sparrowfrost.

"Talking to corpses, mouse-brain?" he asked, "You do know it can't hear you, right?" He jumped lightly off the rock and walked towards her menacingly. Sparrowfrost shrank back quickly as Ashblaze walked past her towards Lightfoot's body. He poked it with his paw.

"See? She's gone. Dead. Empty. Kaput. Finished. Get it, Stupid?" he kicked Lightfoot harder to illustrate his point. Dewpetal giggled.

Suddenly, Sparrowfrost had had enough.

Her blood boiled and a rushing sound filled her ears.

Then everything seemed to stop.

A vicious snarl tore out of her throat and she lunged for Ashblaze. As she leapt through the air she glimpsed Dewpetal's terrified face a moment before she hit Ashblaze. Her claws ripped at his side and her jaws snapped at his throat.

Life restarted in fast forward.

The fight was a blur of slashing claws and bared teeth. At first Ashblaze seemed to be gaining the upper paw, he had Sparrowfrost pinned to the ground and was snapping at her neck. Then she threw him off and jumped on his back, digging her claws into his shoulders.

Sparrowfrost was aware of a growing audience at the edge of the camp, but no one moved to halt the tussle. In fact, the warriors seemed to be cheering Ashblaze on. She caught a brief glimpse of her only friend –Nightspot- at the edge of the crowd, worry clouding his dark blue eyes. Sparrowfrost almost walked over to ask him what was wrong, but then Ashblaze delivered a particularly sharp nip to her tail and she turned back to retaliate.

She wanted to end the fight, so she could reassure her best friend. She dealt a heavy blow to Ashblaze's head and absently bit his windpipe, her mind still on Nightspot.

The taste of blood permeated her mouth and brought her sharply back to her senses. Ashblaze lay at her paws, gurgling. As his life slipped away he looked at her with such hate in his eyes that Sparrowfrost flinched.

"You… will regret this… Freak…!" He hissed. Sparrowfrost stared into his dimming eyes, horrified. He was dying. She had killed him. She began backing away quickly

No… no… He can't die!" a panicked yowl sounded from her right. It was Dewpetal. "Ashblaze! No, Ashblaze! Look at me, Ashblaze, please…" She cried, her voice broken from the sobs that wracked her body. "Ashblaze, don't leave me! Please, Ashblaze. Hang on for a second, just a second, I'll-" She was interrupted by Ashblaze's hoarse croak.

"Dewpetal… I… love you. Remember that… forever. Promise?" Dewpetal shook her head.

"No, you won't leave me. You said. You said you'd be here forever! You said!" Dewpetal sounded a little hysterical now. "Dewpetal… She killed me… okay? Now… promise." Dewpetal stared at him wordlessly and nodded.

"Forever and always. Promise." He sighed, content. A breeze ruffled the fur of all of the cats and Ashblaze slipped away.

Dewpetal threw her head back and yowled, long and loud. The yowl spoke of broken promises, all pervading sadness and a rage so deep that words failed Sparrowfrost.

Suddenly Dewpetal turned to her.

"You're a freak, Sparrowfrost," She spat. "You don't fit in FleshClan and you never will. I hate you. I. Hate. You."

**Author's notes: So! Murder... Thanks to my solitary reviewer (and Clanmate) Rainy, and also to my excellent Beta reader- Stormfeather of IceClan. Please review!**


	3. Owlstrike- Running and Hiding

**Thanks again to Stormyyy and the people who reviewed the last chapter: the anonymous guest and JennyThePanda. Jenny, you also favourited and I can't thank you enough! I love it when people do that! **

**Owlstrike- Running and Hiding **

"Owlstrike! I need to talk to you." Owlstrike sighed. He had been expecting this.

"Yes, O Great and Mighty Father." He said with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Robinstar glared at him. Owlstrike smiled inside, he enjoyed annoying his father.

"Where have you been, for ShadeClan's sake?" Robinstar's voice was laced with unconcealed venom. "I told you that you were confined to the camp _two days ago. _You cannot just disappear for two days and then stroll back into camp like nothing happened. You're my _son_, take some responsibility!" Owlstrike felt the anger begin to bubble in his chest. So it was _responsibility _now? What about parenting responsibility? Robinstar took no interest in his son, except to berate him for his mistakes.

"Well I'm back now." He said, hiding his rage. Robinstar laughed humourlessly, as though he would like to rip his son's fur off.

"And that makes it okay, does it?"

"Yes." Owlstrike replied simply. "Yes it does." Robinstar hissed angrily and turned towards the warriors' den slightly.

"Shall we see what Poppyshadow thinks of this?" Suddenly Owlstrike felt less confident. This was the first time Robinstar had threatened to involve his adoptive mother in an argument and Poppyshadow was the only person able to scare him; something about her calmness struck him dumb. Dumb and terrified. A little bit like a BoneClan cat, he supposed.

"Well, what are you waiting for, mouse-brain? Follow me." Robinstar was stood at the entrance to the warriors' den. Owlstrike stared at him. He really was stupid if he thought that Owlstrike was going to stick around now. Owlstrike flicked his tail mockingly at his father's stupidity.

Then he ran.

So unexpected was this action that he made it out into the pine trees before he heard any pursuit. But they did pursue him. The pawsteps behind him were catching up fast. He strongly suspected that his father had sent the three fastest cats in DeathClan after him: Fawnflower, Darkstep and Windstorm. He could escape them easily. They were faster than him, obviously, but no cat except Owlstrike would dare venture into the territory of the most hostile Clan of them all. FleshClan.

As he crossed the border the thrill of victory overcame his senses and he suddenly spun around.

"Not so brave now, are we? Not so clever either! What are you going to tell Robinstar?" he despised these underlings, and wasn't afraid to show it.

"Get out of there Owlstrike! They'll catch you! Do you really want to go the same way as Greyflame? Executed by fox-hearts and mouse-brains?" Fawnflower sounded genuinely worried for him, though her words were harsh, but Owlstrike had lived all of his life in DeathClan and knew that his Clanmates looked out for themselves and no one else.

Windstorm sighed heavily and looked at Fawnflower, her eyes full of frustration. "Don't bother," she said tiredly. "The stupid furball will have to learn for himself. I doubt that Robinstar would ever allow the demise of his _precious_ son anyway. He'd invade FleshClan first." Her words were filled with contempt.

Owlstrike watched the proceedings with amusement. They were deciding whether or not to chase him, and the decision seemed to be going in his favour. They were so easy to predict. But then Darkstep spoke up,"Well, I think we ought to go after him. FleshClan can't persecute us for fetching a wayward member of our Clan." Windstorm seemed to be in agreement with this, but Fawnflower seemed worried.

"But he's half-clan, isn't he? His mother was that queen Tornstar gave us.* He's half FleshClan. They might see how strong he's become and want him back!" Fawnflower seemed horrified at the idea of Owlstrike leaving DeathClan.

Owlstrike, meanwhile, felt as though the breath had been knocked from his lungs. They were talking about his mother. It wasn't like he missed her; he had been barely weeks old when Crowmoon was murdered, but his being half-clan was a sore subject for him. He might not get along with his father, but -deep inside him- he wanted to belong with his father's Clan. To be considered his father's equal.

Not wanting to hear any more of the conversation, he turned and bounded towards the thick forests that made up most of the FleshClan territory. The leaves crunched under his pounding feet and the breeze whispered quietly in his ears. It was many minutes later that he skidded to a halt.

He was back at the fallen tree where he had camped out so many times before. A hollow in the side served as a den, and he had filled it with moss and soft ferns. The forest was full of an abundance of prey and soft things to sleep on. No wonder FleshClan thrived here! Owlstrike could see everything needed to be healthy and content within a paw's grasp. Clean water, moss, ferns, prey, shelter and healing herbs. A cat could camp out here indefinitely, and that was exactly what Owlstrike planned to do.

He yawned, suddenly aware of the weight of tiredness in his bones. He crawled sleepily into his soft, sheltered hollow and curled up in his nest. It had been a long day and Owlstrike wanted tomorrow to arrive soon, so that he could eat and plan his next moves. He fell asleep to thoughts of revenge and fighting.

XxXxX

Owlstrike woke with a sudden jolt. Voices! Coming from behind his tree! Had his Clanmates come for him after all? He drew some air through his nose. No, that was definitely FleshClan scent. But, oh dear ShadeClan, he hadn't thought to disguise his scent. He briefly berated himself for his stupidity. It eventually occurred to him to listen to the conversation that was being held not two fox lengths away.

"Can you not come with me?" a she-cat's voice. She sounded desperate and upset, Owlstrike nearly laughed aloud at her weakness, before he remembered that he was supposed to be hiding.

"No, I can't. They'd come after us if we both went. I'll meet with you at the Highmoor in two moons," a tom's voice now. Reassuring. _Kind._ Were these cats FleshClan? They were certainly nothing like Owlstrike had heard.

"Please… I need you. I can't get his face out of my head. His eyes… so empty. And the blood! I can feel it on my paws still. The taste of it is on my tongue… I can't escape it! I want it to go away!" the she-cat sounded hysterical. Panicked and afraid, and also guilty. So, so guilty. "Help me Nightspot. I can't find my way…"

There was a rustling noise, then a few beats of silence before the tom- Nightspot- spoke again.

"I know, Sparrowfrost. I know."

***For the Crowmoon story see Shadow of the Moon. **

**Review!**


	4. Sparrowfrost- Encounter

**Sparrowfrost- Encounter**

Sparrowfrost watched, dismayed, as Nightspot walked away from her, his dark fur rippling over his powerful shoulders. That was that then. She was alone. She looked sadly around the forest. It had been her home for almost twenty moons and she had never ventured into any other territory, she had never been trusted enough to go on raids.

She decided against heading to the BoneClan border tonight, it would be much easier to find her way in the light. Sparrowfrost stared around, looking for a place to sleep. Her sharp eyes fell on a hollow log a few tail-lengths away. She yawned widely, deciding to sleep there, after all, she had two moons until Nightspot met her. Two moons suddenly felt a lot longer than it had before.

She yawned again. A strange scent hit the back of her throat. Sparrowfrost's sleepiness deserted her immediately. She inhaled deeply again, if it was a fox or a badger she was almost certainly crowfood. It was neither. _Another cat, _Sparrowfrost thought, relieved. But her relief left her as suddenly as it had arrived; a cat? On FleshClan territory? She breathed deeply for a third time. The unmistakable scent of DeathClan filled her nostrils.

Carefully, Sparrowfrost crept towards the log. Her hunting crouch had always been one of the best in her Clan, not that anyone admitted it, and she was able to glide almost soundlessly over the leafy ground. She approached the end of the log silently and peered in.

It was filled with ferns and moss, which gave it a comfortable feel, and at the far end there was a brown lump. Suddenly the lump shifted, lifted its head and stared at her with piercing green eyes. She gasped and stumbled backwards.

The lump stood and made its way towards her, when it stepped into the dappled farest light Sparrowfrost saw that it was not just any cat; it was Owlstrike, son of Robinstar. She silently cursed ShadeClan for her luck; Owlstrike was something of a legend among the other Clans. He was one of the very few DeathClan cats who attacked before carefully considering the situation. Stories of his hot-headedness, temper and fierce fighting skills were rife, although she didn't believe half of them. Still, his father was a ruthless leader, his mother a fierce FleshClan queen and his adoptive mother… well, she didn't want to believe any of the rumours about Poppyshadow.

"And I thought that we DeathClan cats were supposed to be the thinkers," a snide voice came from beside her. "And FleshClan were meant to attack without thinking. Maybe we should swap Clans." He had a pleasant voice, rough and sarcastic, but with a certain smoothness to it as well.

"Maybe. But we still each belong to our own Clans. Which begs the question, what are you doing on our territory?" Sparrowfrost retorted, irritated.

"Didn't sound like you're planning on sticking around to me." he said, sounding curious.

"And what do you mean by that, Owlstrike?" Sparrowfrost sounded cool and aloof, but inside she was panicking: How much had he heard?

"_Can't you come with me?_" he echoed her words snidely, "_The blood! I can't escape it!_" Owlstrike sneered at her horrified expression.

"Well," she replied, regaining control of herself slightly, "You'll know that I don't have to meet him for two moons. Plenty of time to get rid of _you._" He looked at her, surprised by this sudden flash of aggression. Then he began to laugh.

"As if…" Here he had to pause to catch his breath. "As if _you_ could ever fight _me._"

"I could fight you and win easily."

"Ha! You're just a pathetic, weak, mouse-brained _she-cat. _You don't belong on the battlefield. You belong in the nursery, obediently waiting for the return of your wonderful, powerful mate. Get back to you Clan. Hunt and nurse. It isn't like you'd ever have the strength to deliver the killing blow. You're a _she-cat!_"

Sparrowfrost's blood boiled. He thought she was inferior because of her _gender_! She would show him. He would never judge so quickly again.

"You think you're brave, you half-Clan piece of crowfood? You think you're strong? I bet you've been mollycoddled your entire life by your all-powerful _daddy. _I bet the only kills on your record were defenceless kits and queens! Oh, the mighty Owlstrike! He took down these powerful foes! Well, guess what, you fox-hearted scum? I _have_ fought other cats and won. I _have _killed enemy warriors and I sure as heck didn't have a powerful daddy to help me along! I killed the FleshClan prodigy! I killed Ashblaze! I killed my own _brother!_"

**Sorry about le cliffhanger! It had to be done! Much love to my readers! Thank you all! By the way, Crowmoon (Owly's mother) may become a more prominent figure in the story soon, so if you haven't read Shadow of the Moon (my original oneshot set in this world), please do! Also, I'm working on a oneshot about Ashblaze and Dewpetal, so if you have any suggestions about their story feel free to add them in a review! It's called A Petal of Ash, so please read when it appears on my account.  
Muchos gracias,**

**RoRy XD**


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